Slouching towards Bethlehem
by The Readers Muse
Summary: God, his ankle was killing him.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own The Walking Dead. Everything belongs to whoever owns them, my wishful thinking aside.

 **Authors Note #1 :** I needed some hot and dirty, 'let's deal with our latest shared trauma' aaric in the aftermath of 6x09. So this is basically self-service and I regret nothing.

 **Warnings:** Clearly spoilers to 6x09 – basically set around the idea of after the credits rolled, the residents of Alexandria start to pick up the pieces and get shit cleaned up. Sexual content, oral sex, adult language, smut, pwp, hurt and comfort, angst.

 **Slouching towards Bethlehem**

He limped up and down between houses, searching through the downed walkers for any who hadn't suffered a killing blow. Belt knife doing the job - quick and clean - whenever it was needed as the others circled around doing the same. Taking stock. Scrubbing their faces clean with the unsteady trickle still gushing from the garden hose. Counting their losses. Whatever it was people did when they emerged blinking – surprised and alive from yet another near miss.

 _God, his ankle was killing him._

With the adrenaline rush he'd barely felt it.

It'd been a non-issue.

It hadn't been until after, until he'd been idling with the others outside the infirmary that the familiar ache started up with a vengeance. Reminding him of all the reasons why he wasn't supposed to be pushing it as the reality of more than few sleepless nights ranged out in his near future.

Aaron met him at the tanker truck. Sliding into the passenger seat and swinging the door shut without saying a word. He held the same line. Starting the rattling truck with a firm twist of his wrist as the engine roared to life and he eased the tires into position. Reversing up the scorched bank and towards the main gates where they could use the rest of the gas to fill up the remaining cars.

The _click-click_ of Aaron's seat beat sliding into place was grating - familiar - habitual. But still he said nothing as he twisted in the seat, bad leg jostling along with every other bump as the dead silenced stretched. Filling the air with tension as the stale tang of old iron and tacky red threatened to make his gorge rise.

He watched out of the corner of his eye as Father Gabriel and Tobin shook a sheet over a small figure caught in the middle of a knot of downed walkers. He thought about Sam playing with his boat along the edge of the lake just a few days ago. He thought about the way no one was talking about what happened. About how no one could find Deanna's body and how the aggressive blankness Spencer was excluding was deafening.

The moment he jerked the truck into park, Aaron was already there. Unbuckling his seatbelt and turning to face him. Leaning over the gearshift and _making noise_. Capturing his chin as he kissed him desperately - harshly. Already half-kneeling up on the seat by the time he'd managed to sink the blunt of his fingers into the man's shoulder.

This part, at least, was familiar.

Aaron had always been desperate.

Desperate to have.

Desperate to keep.

Desperate to understand.

Desperate to love.

 _To be loved._ _  
_  
He took the teeth digging into his lower lip and returned it just as forcefully. Working himself up to it as the stench of sweat and gore rose nauseatingly thick between them. It wasn't what he thought he wanted from the moment, but he went with it. Groaning softly into the kiss as Aaron wrapped surprisingly possessive fingers around his wrist. Pressing them back against the steering wheel as someone slammed a car door close by. Reminding him they weren't alone. That if anyone looked, they'd see-

But for once Aaron didn't seem to care.

In fact, before he could think about why this was a bad idea, there was already a hand tangling with his belt with just enough curtness for him to know that whatever this was, it wasn't up for discussion. Gentleness and lingering teasing was a pipe dream that wasn't even on the same wave length as where they were now as Aaron's hand curled around his cock – already slick and heated as he arched back in the seat. Pleasure and pain mixing together in way he really wasn't used to as his ankle kicked up a fuss about the cramped position.

He tried to flail out with his hand and return the favor. But instead of the easy acceptance that made up the majority of their moments together, all he got for his trouble was a warning nip that fattened his lower lip until he couldn't help but mewl out a negative.

There was barely a rhythm to the almost too-tight grip before Aaron was moving again. Twisting down and around so that he was kneeling on the floor between the seats, shoving the seat back as far as it would go so he could yank his pants down the rest of the way. Exposing him to the warm, stale smelling air as his cock twitched. Shining with pearly slick as the trembling muscles in his thighs flushed freckle-red all the way down.

There wasn't anything he could do other than sit back and watch. Choking on a breath – something that might have been the man's name if he'd had the energy to follow through - when Aaron let the crown of his cock rub against the swell of his lower lip.

His lips parted, soft with the sort of surprise that never really got old when Aaron kept him pinned there. Inhaling throatily into the crease of his groin with a shattered sound before swallowing around him. He froze. There was no other word for it. Overstimulated and shaky as the pleasure burned white-hot, spreading so fast his head started spinning.

He stared out the windshield unseeing, tangling his fingers in Aaron thick curls until he realized he was pulling. The hard line of the man's cock was rubbing against his shin every time Aaron pulled off long enough to trace his tongue around the crown. Flicking over the head again and again until his hips were jerking in time. Catching onto the desperate ferocity the man seemed to be operating under as he rutted up into Aaron's mouth like he just couldn't help himself.

 _And after all, w_ _hy would he?_

Stopping wasn't the point.

Stopping was hard.

It was fast and final and would give him way too much time to think.

And honestly, that was the last thing he wanted.

He hadn't known he'd wanted this until he'd been dragged there – _coerced._

And now he could imagine himself doing anything else.

The soft murmur of _"fuck"_ just before he started spilling down Aaron's throat was the first thing they'd said to each other in hours.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. – This story is now complete.


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